


Poppy Seeds

by Michael_McGruder



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 06:59:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3281096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michael_McGruder/pseuds/Michael_McGruder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It turns out the grave of Arnold J. Rimmer isn't as lonely a place after all.</p><p>A follow up to Saudade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poppy Seeds

There was a period where Dennis would visit his son’s grave almost every day. He’d briefly considered applying for a job as a landscaper at the cemetery, but decided that probably wasn’t the healthiest thing to do.

Eventually his visits started tapering off, weekly, monthly, then just on special occasions. Arnold’s birthday, his death day, Remembrance Day, and sometimes for no special occasion at all.

He never saw Margaret, or any of his brothers, and he was always able to mourn privately. A small comfort he was grateful for. He always left elaborate floral arrangements, an odd juxtaposition to the small, minimal grave.

Just a small plaque that read;

 ARNOLD J RIMMER  
2344 – 2375  
 _“Sic itur ad astra”_

It was a grey Wednesday, one those just because visits, just because he was feeling lonely, and the loss of his boy tugged particularly hard today. Dennis approached the plaque from the hill. He paused when he saw two people standing there. A woman and a small boy, no more than three or four years old.

He wrung his flat cap in his rough hands for a moment before approaching. He exchanged glances with the woman for a moment before pondering the plaque. The little boy reached down and ran his fingers along the raised letters.

“Did you know him?” he asked the woman. She nodded, stroking the boy’s hair.

“He was my son’s father.”

A tightness gripped Dennis’s chest so fiercely that it was difficult to breathe. He looked down at the small boy, his eyes welling up with tears.

“Did you know him?” she asked in return. He twisted his cap in his hands again, trying to compose himself before looking her in the eye.

“Have you had lunch yet? Would you let me buy you a cup of coffee and maybe we could talk?”


End file.
